


Suledin

by UsakoAuditore



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lavellan is lonely, M/M, Sad with a Happy Ending, Solas is an ass, Trespasser Spoilers, but it has a good ending!, i promise it has a happy end, really sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5189459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UsakoAuditore/pseuds/UsakoAuditore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Harden your heart into a cutting edge.” </p><p>She tried, but how could she harden her heart when he held it in his hands?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suledin

**Author's Note:**

> Songs I listened to while writing this:  
> The Lonely, by Christina Perry  
> Concrete Wall, by Zee Avi

Everyone had seen, when she returned.

But Solas was first.

He strode into Skyhold. His shoulders were set. Tense. He brushed by Varric, not bothering to greet him. It was late, and the weather was chaotic.

Varric remembered him leaving with her.

She did not return.

Varric had approached the rotunda with caution, and the sight that greeted him at the end of the hallway was forever burned into his mind. Solas was hunched over his desk, his shoulders quivering. That itself wasn’t what disturbed the dwarf, but rather his own uncertainty.

He couldn’t tell if the mage was sobbing… or laughing.

Lavellan was missing for five days. Cassandra fretted, Cullen nearly drove himself mad with worry. Leliana retreated to her tower, seeking information on the Inquisitor’s location with as much power as she held. Josephine pleaded with dignitaries to inform them if Lavellan asked for hospitality.

Five days, with no word. With nothing.

Varric had finally stormed into the rotunda, swept Solas’s precious research from the desk, and snapped.

“ _Where_ is she, _exactly_?” His fist pounded on the desk, and he was only greeted by Solas’s blank mask. It was rare for Varric to become angry, but he was tired of the tension in the air. He fisted Solas’s sweater, forcing him to his eye level. “I know you _know_ , Chuckles. Just tell us she’s _safe_.”

Solas’s mouth was in a tight line.

“I do not know. I expected her to _follow_.” And it clicked. Why Solas had taken her alone, why he returned alone. Why he was even _more_ reserved of late. Anger blazed, making Varric see red. He shoved the elvhen mage away, disgusted.

“Those who use people like that deserve worse than tranquility. You don’t deserve forgiveness.” Solas maintained his mask. Varric nearly missed his quiet “…I know” as he stormed out the door. There was a small commotion at the gates as he left the rotunda. She had returned.

Lavellan did not look herself. She was paler than he had ever remembered her. The freckles that had once seemed so warm on her face now stood out starkly against her skin. She was almost translucent. Varric pushed through the crowd, elbowing his way to the girl he had become so affectionate of. She met his eyes, and as he offered a small, understanding smile, her face crumpled. Cullen barely managed to catch her as she fell.

Varric deemed his presence necessary at her bedside as she slept.

**

She awoke, eyes hollow, after two days of sleep. Varric knew she had avoided dreaming when she was missing. Avoided _him_. When he offered her a hand to hold, she stared at him blankly. Tears were falling down her face.

She was too pale, too thin. Varric ordered her a meal, stayed by her side. Offered her reassurance. Dorian had joined their company, somehow knowing what was wrong, and simply held her. Her eyes kept the careful emptiness, despite the tears near constantly falling down her cheeks. It was almost like she didn’t notice them.

**

Lavellan was needed in the war room. She went, attended to her duties. Talked to nobles, judged people for their crimes. She didn’t notice the tears anymore. If she had gathered the courage, she would have looked in the mirror, seen the bags under her eyes, the swollen nature of her eyes, the light of her soul missing. But she wouldn’t, _couldn’t,_ greet her blank face.

He had taken her heart with her vallaslin. She wouldn’t recognize herself anymore anyway.

**

“Harden your heart into a cutting edge.”

She _tried_.

**

Corypheus came. He lifted her into the sky, and in the end, when the orb clattered to the ground, Lavellan had allowed herself a smile of triumph. She wasn’t _dead_. Corypheus couldn’t threaten what small family she had found with the inquisition. She had glanced behind her, and saw him.

“The orb…” and her heart would have hurt for him, if he did not hold it himself. His eyes met hers, filled with sorrow. She had wondered if he could love her again, now that this was all over. He had promised her answers. His next words sliced at her.

“No matter what comes, what we had, was _real_.”

She had no chance to reply as Cassandra called for her, wondering at her health.

When she looked behind her again, he was gone. And with him, her heart.

**

Two years passed. In that time, her friends left, one by one. Varric, a _viscount_ , Sera, now the leader of her Jennies, Dorian, to Tevinter. Bull took the Chargers to follow, and with them went the bard. Blackwall set about helping the wardens. Vivienne took control of the mages. Cassandra remained with Leliana, once more the right hand of the divine. Cullen stayed with her in Skyhold, so only him and Cole remained. Of course, Skyhold held its forces, and nobles, but to Lavellan, her home was almost empty. She remained a leader, connected to her friends through crystals and letters, but it wasn’t the same.

Isolation ate at her, and when her hand got worse, she didn’t really have anyone to tell.

**

The exalted council was a new case altogether. The Qunari invasions, the accusations, all topped off with her hand becoming more and more volatile. When she explored the eluvians, her friends in tow, memories of him assaulted her at every corner. The crossroads were filled with things he had shown her in dreams, sights that he had read to her from books in ancient elvhen. At the decision to find him, Varric noticed a life in her eyes.

The life that hadn’t been there since Solas had returned from Crestwood, alone.

She cracked a smile at the antics of her former companions, and the air was light with happiness. Things seemed normal. They saved a dragon, killed countless Qunari, and fought their way to the last eluvian. She had gone through alone, begging privacy. She ignored the hand that had been exploding with magic throughout their journey, ignored the pain that sang throughout her body, and focused on the empty space where her heart could be.

She was set on retrieving it, or stealing one in return.

**

He wouldn’t turn and look at her. It was, perhaps, the most painful part of seeing him again. He was taller, wearing armor that reminded her of the Sentinels in Mythal’s temple. It was then she realized who he must be. She couldn’t say anything.

Lavellan wondered if he realized she was even there.

“I suspect you have questions,” he stated, and his voice was more comforting than she could have imagined. It also triggered the mark, and when it flared brightly, a scream of surprised agony tore out of her throat. He whipped around, horrified at the sound. Solas swept over to her, holding her hand gingerly, gazing at her face with horror. He had never heard of _this_ , not in the fade, not from his agents, not from any divine power. She was dying, veins of _his_ magic eating through her veins. Solas had never felt pain like he did in that moment, and as he quelled her agony by clenching his fist, a smile bloomed on her face.

She looked wrong.

Her face was thinner than he had ever seen, her skin paler than when he had left. She had lost weight, and her once pleasantly curved form now looked starved for attention. Seeing her face _hurt_. But she still smiled.

He was shocked when she laughed quietly.

“You’re the dread wolf!” Her voice sang, melodic and raw at the same time, as if it had been yelling for days. With her arm, he had little doubt that she had. It was still the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

The kiss they shared was everything he had ever wanted. She kissed him like they had a future, like he could _quit_ this madness, like they could settle, have a family, and be _happy_. He knew better. He hoped she did as well.

As he backed away, unable to turn from her face, she crumpled.

He had managed to avoid her in Skyhold after he had ended things, tried to ignore the constant tears on her face when she spoke to others. He had never seen a face so wracked in pain.

“Solas, _var lath vir suledin!”_ and it hurt, so so much.

“I wish it could, Vhenan.” He wasn’t facing her anymore, the eluvian opened under his hand. The singing sound of a blade pulling free of a scabbard made him glance back, one foot through the mirror. He braced for attack, and instead watched as she heaved the sword down on her own arm. The horror of the movement almost drew him back to her.

She met his eyes as he was dragged to the other side of the eluvian.

“I am sorry, then.” Were the last words he heard.

**

Lavellan disbanded the Inquisition. Cole had left to the fade, helping how he could in preparation for the coming disaster of the world ending. Cullen remained with Cassandra, now attempting to rebuild the Seekers. Forces left Skyhold. People went with them, having no place there any longer. She was truly alone.

Without her arm, Lavellan tried to learn fighting one handed. Special trainers came and went, all disturbed by her unwavering determination to fight. In the end, she couldn’t. They tried, but no matter how hard she swung a blade or turned a staff, she was always left open somehow. They would leave with words of apology, and when they left so did a piece of her.

Lavellan knew she couldn’t keep relying on the Divine sending her food, on the short visits from her friends. They had lives beyond the Inquisition, of course they did, but she could not.

She wasn’t suited for politics, the disaster of the council proved that, and she could no longer fight. Even with her scholarly skills, she wouldn’t be much use to anyone with her knowledge of ancient elvhenan. She tried Genitivi, but even to him her claims were outlandish.

She had no clan, and with the disbanding of the Inquisition, no family. She wondered where her place in the world was, now that she was alone.

**

In her soul, she knew she was dying.

There was no mark poisoning her veins, yet they ran black. She did not drown her sorrows, but her mind was always somewhat addled. Walking made her dizzy, moving made her ache. Dorian was the first to catch on. He beheld the black veins in her neck during one of their crystal-conversations. She had forgotten to hide them with her hair. He declared he and Bull would be there within the month.

She didn’t know if she could life that long.

Lavellan poured over books, searching for her sickness. There was an allusion to an ancient Elvhen disease, brought on when one’s heart was stolen. It seemed more like prose, but it was the closest in description to her ailment.

She sought him in the fade. There she hid her appearance, letting herself look healthy for his sake. She finally caught him staring from the trees in her dream.

“Hello, ma vhenan.” She had said.

He was aware that her form was flickering, almost like she was waking up. He wondered why she would wake so soon after entering her dreams, but figured people were with her, pressing her to perform some duties. He wouldn’t believe that the Inquisition was _truly_ ended, because there was no way that all of her inner circle had left. His agents were getting false information. There was no way she was alone.

But she sat near him for hours. Talking to him, telling him of his once friends. Laughing at memories. Yet, she flickered. The thought of her fading confused him. Perhaps he refused to see the truth. She finally closed her eyes and smiled.

“I am sorry, ma’sa lath. I must wake.” And the dream dissolved. He was left alone, uncomfortable for an unknown reason. Cole appeared at his side.

“You should go to her.” He said, beginning an age old argument between the two of them.

“I can’t.” He replied. Cole looked at him angrily now.

“You _must_.  You _must_ or she won’t—” His eyes widened. A choked sound came from his throat. His next words deviated from their usual fight. “She’ll be _gone_ , Solas.”

He began his journey to Skyhold. Planning to preserve her first. If he could not make the world immortal, he could at least have _her_.

**

Lavellan had been entertaining Dorian for a week, tired of him fretting over her blackening veins, her fading hair, her translucent skin. She was beginning to suspect he wouldn’t leave, and had convinced Bull to distract him for a few hours. She saw them from her balcony, sparring along with the Chargers. She switched balconies, hoping to spare them the sight of her. Of what she was going to do.

The balcony was still in view from the sparring ground when she sat on the small banister. Words poured from her mouth, unbidden.

“I am sorry, ma vhenan. I am sorry for everything, for ruining the world.” A shaky breath as she leaned on her good arm, legs swinging in the open air.

“I am sorry I wasn’t enough, that we could not be happy. I am sorry that I am so selfish to do this.” She glanced down to the training ground, noticing the laughter coming from the Chargers, surely at Dorian’s expense. Love and jealousy burned in her gut. She hated herself for feeling that.

“I am sorry to our friends. They can move on, though. Some already have.” She thought of Sera, happily married to Dagna. Of Blackwall, no, Rainier, now Warden Commander. Of Vivienne, happy in her power. She really was the only one without a place. A tear, unbidden, slipped down her face.

There was a ripple in the air, as if someone had come to Skyhold without permission. Krem seemed to be the only one who noticed, down below. His eyes scanned the ramparts. Lavellan hoped that it wasn’t an assassination attempt. She didn’t want the assassin to be disappointed at the loss of a kill.

The thought made her laugh.

Krem’s eyes reached her.

A shout rose from below, and from within her own room. Cole was rushing towards her, another figure behind him. He was yelling.

She let go. A flash of magic enveloped her, holding on to her life, allowing her to hear Dorian’s anguished _scream_ as she fell. It wasn’t enough. Her vision was darkening at the edges as she landed in the garden. The plants were flowering, beautiful. She thought it was a lovely place to die.

Lavellan wondered if Solas would plant a tree for her.

His arms were around her, he was begging, pleading for her to “ _please vhenan hold on, you can live now you can_ live _!”_

Her vision blessedly faded to black as death finally claimed her.

She greeted it like an old friend.

**

She woke in a cottage. It was small, three rooms, in a lovely patch of woods. Flowers bloomed around the house, and everything smelled of elfroot and books. Smelled like _him_.

She knew she was dead when twin cries of joy came from the front door. Two small forms ( _boys_ , her mind delighted) ran to her, crashing into her legs, shouting “Mamae! Mamae! We’ve been _waiting_!” A delighted laugh tore from her lips, true joy clouding her mind. The black veins were gone, her arm was back, and for the first time in years, she almost felt _whole_. She knew the children were hers. Projections of what could have been.

Lavellan thanked whatever divine power remained for this blessing of an afterlife. Time passed in odd ways. Her boys stayed young and mischievous, but above all, _happy_.

Her friends came slowly.

Sera was first. She gazed at the cottage with incredulity, and then laughed.

“Death is weird, ‘innit? I expected the holy Andraste herself.” She ran her eyes over Lavellan and gave a true smile. “Think I like this better.”

She had died when the veil tore. Sera was pissed that Dagna had to live without her, but was happy with Ellana. When Dagna knocked on the door one day, Sera greeted her with rare tears and enough kisses to smother her. Lavellan gave her an imploring look.

“Gaatlok.” Was Dagna’s response. Lavellan nodded, and smiled as they walked away together. She wondered if she would see them again.

Dorian was next, and with him Iron Bull. He had crushed her in a hug and then slapped her.

“Don’t you _ever_ do that again!” She laughed affectionately.

“I _can’t._ ” Was her response. He crushed her again in his arms, this time Bull enveloped them both. Arrows was their explanation. They loved her boys, and she wondered if they wouldn’t find children of their own when they found their place in this strange afterlife.

She hoped they would.

 It was a steady stream then. Blackwall, dragon. Harding, a mage. Vivienne fair sauntered into her house while preening. “Poison.” Was her only word. She swept away to find her Bastion.

Cassandra came next. The Seeker cried happily upon seeing her old friend, and hugged the woman while cooing over the children. She looked at Lavellan, and then said with regret, “it was one of his men. He tried to save me.” Lavellan’s heart hurt at this, but she hugged her friend all the same.

“If you would like to stay with me, my home is yours.” She did.

Cullen was next. He arrived looking healthy, and was missing the bags Lavellan had thought naturally lived under his eyes. He had died in battle. He laughed with her boys, and stared at her with love she could not reciprocate. He became a spirit of valor. It was fitting for him.

Josephine arrived with a huff. She greeted Lavellan with happy squeals and then practically demanded to know where Rainier had ended up. He greeted her at the mouth of the path. They walked hand in hand. Cassandra laughed at this, while muttering “I _knew_ it!”

Leliana strode into Lavellan’s house, looking serene and happy. When asked how she departed, she looked around in wonderment.

“Oh! I suppose this is death, isn’t it? How _interesting!_ ” She had died of old age, in her sleep.

Varric was last. He arrived grumbling about “dwarves living _way_ too _fucking_ long,” and nearly dragged Cassandra with him to find a place for them. Lavellan was happy they had found peace.

Her boys were never lonely, as her closest friends now made frequent visits. They played with Dorian’s daughter, Sera’s toddler, and Cassandra would watch them all affectionately with her baby swaddled in her arms.

It was a rare, rainy day when Cole came. She greeted him with a smile. He was not dead, merely visiting. But he bore news.

“He is coming soon.” Lavellan’s heart soared, and she smiled at her children.

“Papae will be here soon, sweet ones.” They cheered.

He came in the night. Solas did not arrive in death gracefully, but more _landed_ outside her door with a resounding _crash_. The boys were asleep, and she opened the door as quietly as she could.

He was in his elvhen form, drenched in blood, crumpled on her doorstep. Lavellan crouched down and laid a hand on his shoulder. His body stilled, previously shaking. Her thumb caressed his cheek.

“Welcome _home_ , ma vhenan.” His arms curled around her and crushed her to him. He apologized, over and over again, weeping into her shoulder. She let her tears flow too, because she knew they could finally be _happy_. Twin screams of “ _Papae!”_ shattered the quiet air around them, and the boys clung to their father. Lavellan smiled at her family.

Her _family_.

Solas looked up then, pulled her in for a kiss, and she realized.

He wasn’t the only one who had just found _home_.

And she would never leave.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully the ending is happy enough!


End file.
